Descent into Darkness
by Da Boiz
Summary: A Dark Brotherhood assassin on her path to greatness must join forces with the legendary Hero of Kvatch in order to combat the threat of the planes Oblivion itself. Witness the first of the trilogy, and a Wood Elf's descent into darkness.
1. Chapter 1

_Good day everyone! This is your friendly neighborhood Dr. Scrubs MD, you can call me the The Doctor however. This is the first event I have been involved in where two authors are combining their writing styles to write a single story. We prefer the name, Da Boiz._

**As the good Doctor mentioned, two authors are combining skills to write a story, I am Shakes the Orcphan, call me Shakes. We've set out with the goal of bringing you a trilogy of tales set in Tameriel. This is the first installment in said trilogy. A majority of these characters were born of our own imagination. This first tale takes place during the Oblivion Crisis towards the end of the Third Age. We hope you enjoy our take on this amazing world Bethesda has created. **

_Shakes here is going to take you on your first journey, I'll pop up every once in a while to make sure Shakes is treating you right and give you witty banter, after all, what's a story without its Doctor? Just one quick thing that must be noted: we do not own any of the Oblivion/Skyrim plot, we do however own any and all OC's you'll be reading about. Shakes? Wanna take the good folks on our first chapter?_

**Will do Doc. And now without further ado... Welcome to Descent into Darkness.**

Descent into Darkness:

Chapter 1: Sign on the Dotted Line

It was an average night at the Inn of Ill Omen. Manheim Maulhand stood behind the bar, cleaning up the place for the night. His dark apron stained with ale and mead. His eyes darted over to the group of Imperials who had been there for the past few hours. They joked and laughed loudly, making quite the scene. Manheim scoffed and turned around to fetch them some more mead. Just then, he heard the front door open and turned to see a Bosmer woman walk in, her eyes scanning the room as she entered. She was average height for a Wood Elf, standing about five feet tall. She had dark black hair, with several braids along the sides and back. She had fairly tanned skin and tattoos decorated her face, swirling around her eyes and mouth. She carried an Elven bow and a quiver full of arrows on her back, and several daggers lay on the belt upon her waist. She wore simple leather armor, the same generic type favored by bandits and mercenaries alike. Which one she was, he did not know. He looked at her quizzically. She caught his gaze and approached the counter. "How can I help you tonight, ma'am?" He asked politely. 

"I'm looking for an old man named Rufio," she said with a stern look on her face. 

"May I ask what this visit pertains to?" 

"My name is Ria and I bring urgent news from Claudius Arcadia. The manner is private." Manheim was a bit skeptical but figured that it must truly be an important matter. 

"He stays in the basement room," he said, "the ladder over there will take you right down to him." Manheim pointed to a wooden ladder in the corner of the room, just beneath the stairs. The Elf nodded and made her way to the ladder. 

"Damned fool," she thought to herself. Her name wasn't Ria and she wasn't bringing any news to Rufio. Her name was Arlia and she brought only death to Rufio this night. She climbed down the ladder into the dimly lit corridor below.

Arlia stood outside the door to the basement room of the Inn of Ill Omen. She felt as if the darkness in the corridor was consuming her. She swept her long black hair out of her face and took a deep breath. She took a moment to tighten the fastenings on her leather armor. She knew that she was just stalling, putting off the kill to come. Killing wasn't the thing that made her nervous. She'd killed plenty of times before. 

What made her nervous was that this kill signified the signing of a contract. A contract bound in blood. She took a moment to recount the events that had led her up to this point.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer." The deep, smooth sound of a man's voice shook her from sleep. In instant, she was out of bed and held her dagger to the man's throat. The Imperial smiled at her from underneath the hood of his black cloak. "Dear sister," he said "I did not come here for a confrontation. I came here extend an offer." 

"What kind of offer?" Demanded Arlia. 

"An offer to join a family," he said, "a Brotherhood." Arlia's black eyes grew wide as she realized where this conversation was going. 

"It can't be," she said, "I always thought you didn't exist. That they were all stories. Tales to be whispered in the dark." The man chuckled. 

"We are very real. Our agents walk the same streets you do, right under your very nose." Arlia lowered her dagger. 

"Go on," she said, "I'm listening." 

"Certainly. I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And I have been watching you for quite some time. You are Arlia. A Wood Elf born and raised in the Imperial City. And I'm quite familiar with your work. That Argonian that you claimed as your first victim never stood a chance. I have followed your career with great interest since that night." 

"Well it appears you have been a busy little bee," she said. 

"Indeed. You are one of the finest archers I have seen throughout the years, and I've seen quite a few. Your blade work is also worthy of mention. I am impressed with what I have seen from you, and I am not so easily impressed." 

"So you're giving me a chance to join the Dark Broterhood?" 

"Precisely," he said as she reached into his cloak. He pulled out an ebony dagger in a leather sheath and offered it to Arlia. She took it in her hands and unsheathed the blade. A well-balanced, straight-edged blade, she twirled it between her fingers. She took a moment to examine the blade; the black metal ornately decorated with inlayed gold. She had never used a blade of such fine make. She looked to Lucien who was now smiling, looking very content. 

"But there has to be a catch," she said, "there always is." 

"Indeed. You need only carry out one task. Travel to the Inn of Ill Omen, just north of Bravil. There is a man there by the name of Rufio. He has rented out the basement room for the last few weeks. Kill Rufio and you will be welcomed into our family." Arlia stood silently for a moment, contemplating what Lucien had just told her. She sat down on the edge of the bed, twirling the ebony blade between her fingers. Lucien stood silently, patiently awaiting her answer. After a few moments of silence, Arlia rose to her feet. Her dark eyes met Lucien's.

"I will carry out this task," she said confidently. Lachance smiled at her, a sort of sick and malicious smile. 

"Good," he said, "this test will represent the signing of a contract. That blade will be your quill and Rufio's blood the ink. Upon the completion of this task, I will contact you soon thereafter. The Dread Father will be most pleased."

Arlia snapped back to reality. She took one last deep breath and slowly opened the door Rufio's room. Her eyes quickly scanned the room. Completely empty save for a small bed and table in the center of the room. A man lay in the bed asleep, presumably Rufio. Arlia stepped quietly into the room, her steps hardly making a sound. She unsheathed the Ebony dagger as she reached the side of the bed and looked down on her target. An elderly Breton man, white hair balding at the top. He stirred slightly in his sleep. 

"_So peaceful_," she thought, "_but soon he will sleep eternally._" She raised her dagger, the blade reflecting the dim candlelight. She took a deep breath and lost herself in the moment. It was always this moment that made her feel so alive. The moment before the kill. All of her senses came alive. She could smell everything. Hear everything. See everything. She took in all of her surroundings in a rush of euphoria. She exhaled sharply and brought the dagger down, right into old Rufio's throat. He woke with the blow and struggled to scream. But the only thing that escaped his mouth was a flow of blood, soaking his bed sheets and pillow. His green eyes full of pain and fear. He choked on his blood again, coughing some up on Arlia's face. She smiled maliciously as she thrust the dagger yet again, hushing Rufio's attempts to scream. One final breath escaped his lungs and he faded away. Arlia pulled the dagger roughly from his neck, spraying blood into the ceiling and wall. She reached into the small pack on her belt and pulled out a bloodstained rag. She used it to the wipe the blood from her tattooed face. She then used the rag to wipe the dagger clean before promptly sheathing the blade. She glanced down at Rufio once more and scoffed. His lifeless eyes staring blankly into space. His mouth agape, blood still leaking out from it onto the bed. His throat a mangled and grotesque mess of flesh and blood. She looked up to the wall, which was now sprayed with blood. In that moment, Arlia thought of herself as an artist. The blade is her brush, blood is her paint, and the wall is her canvas. A sick and twisted smile spread across her face as she turned and walked towards the door.

She exited the room, closing the door behind her. She walked over to the ladder and climbed back up, seeing the room much the same as when she'd left it. The drunken Imperials still yammering on and making fools of themselves. She glanced over at the innkeeper who shot her a polite smile. "Did you get him that important message?" 

"Oh yes," she replied with a smile, "he seems to much more at ease now." 

"That's good to hear. Would you like a room for the night?" Arlia shook her head and made for the door. "Have a good night ma'am! And be safe out there!" 

Arlia stepped out into the cool night air. Closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the air rushing into her lungs. She exhaled smoothly and started out at a jog, disappearing into the dark forest. Little did she know that Rufio's death had sealed her fate. She had started down the path towards her destiny; her descent into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

_So Shakes._

**Don't you dare say it.**

_Been a couple months since we updated this. _

**Well yeah, but that's only because we want the most quality work for our readers, and here we are.**

_You're right Shakes, and we're back today for the second chapter of this wonderful story. We do apologize for the wait, but with this chapter comes a promise. It only gets better from here. A quick disclaimer: We do not own any of the plot or characters from Oblivion/Skyrim, we do however own any and all OCs you'll see in this story._

**Thank you all very much, and please enjoy.**

Descent Into Darkness:

Chapter 2: Pirates of the Niben Bay

The sun was barely rising over Cheydinhal as Arlia opened the door to the Newlands Lodge. She entered to see the regular scene, a group of Orcs and Dark Elves, passed out on the floor after a night of drinking. She scoffed and closed the door behind her. She headed towards the stairs, only to be met by Dervera Romalen, the owner of the lodge. Dervera was a beautiful Dunmer woman, with long auburn hair. Her piercing red eyes were nearly always accompanied by a sweet smile. "Arlia, dear," she said happily, "Glad to see you made it back from your trip safely. How was it?"

"It went well, thanks," Arlia replied hurriedly. She reached into her coinpurse and retrieved 10 gold pieces, which she handed to Dervera. "My payment for my room for the day."

"Thank you, dear," she said with a bright smile, "I just finished making it up for you. Go right on up whenever you're ready." Arlia nodded and made her way up the stairs to her room. She flung the door open and slammed it shut behind her. She unbuckled the belt across her shoulder and removed her quiver from her back. She laid it down next to her bed and collapsed onto the mattress. She had ran all night to make it back home and it had taken its toll on her body. Her eyelids felt heavy and she gave into exhaustion, drifting off to sleep.

_**DARKNESS**_

_"Arlia, dear, could you get me a bowl from the cupboard?" Asked Casnia._

_"Right away, mother," Arlia answered as she made her way across the house. She opened the cupboard and fumbled around inside until she pulled out a wooden bowl. She shut the door and carried the bowl to her mother, who was stirring the stew in a pot hanging over the fire._

_Casnia smiled as Arlia handed her the bowl, "Thank you, darling." Casnia was such a gentle woman. A Wood Elf, born and raised in the Imperial City, she grew up surrounded by poverty and discrimination. Nonetheless, she was a kind and generous woman, giving what she could to those in need. Her long dark brown hair was always braided and laid neatly upon her shoulder. Her beautiful green eyes always warmed the hearts of those that she met. Arlia spent much of her time helping her mother with the duties around the house, sometimes venturing out in the city. Their cloth was poor, made up mostly of spare bits sewn together. Everything they had was their own and they made the best out of life._

_Arlia and Casnia turned towards the door as it creaked open. "Father!" Arlia exclaimed happily as she jumped to hug him. Palinor embraced his daughter and spun her around, a happy smile lighting up his face._

_"You're just in time for supper, my love," said Casnia as she served a bowl of stew._

_"Good," said Palinor as he set Arlia down, "Thank you, dear." Palinor was a cut from a different cloth than Casnia. He actually hailed from Valenwood, the Bosmer homeland. His family had moved to the Imperial city when he was a young man and it was there he met Casnia. They wed several years later and Arlia was born soon after. Twenty years later and he was living happily with his family. They all lived together in the Waterfront District of the city, which was known as the poorest district. However, Palinor did all that he could to support his wife and daughter. His jet black hair was tied back in a ponytail and his dark brown eyes were identical to those of his daughter._

_Casnia set the table and the family sat down to enjoy their meal. "So, father," Arlia said, "How was your day?"_

_"It went went quite well," he said, "Sales at the shop were decent." Palinor worked at The Best Defense under Rohssan. He worked primarily as a fletcher, making the arrows that the shop sold. However, Rohssan had officially taken him as her apprentice recently and had begun teaching him the art of smithing._

_"That's great," said Casnia, "Did Rohssan teach you anything new today?"_

_"No, we just went over the basics yet again. I feel like I haven't learned anything new in weeks."_

_"It takes time, darling. I'm sure smithing is a delicate art that requires a lot practice and patience."_

_"Do you think you could teach me someday?" Arlia asked excitedly._

_"Sure," Palinor said with a chuckle, "Maybe someday we could open a shop together." Arlia smiled as she let that thought sink in. Just then they heard a furious pounding at their door._

_"Palinor," a scratchy and angry voice yelled out, "I've come to collect!" Palinor froze with fear and swallowed hard._

_"Collect?" Casnia asked, "What in Oblivion is he talking about?" Palinor's legs shook as he rose from the table and moved to answer the door. Suddenly, the door was battered off of its hinges and slammed onto the floor. Casnia and Arlia gasped and sprang up from their seats at the table. A big, burly Argonian stood in the doorway in a set of chainmail armor. The dark brown skin on his face glistening in the dim light, the lizard barred his razor sharp teeth at Palinor._

_"Jakben send his regards," he snarls, "Now it's time to pay up! 500 Septims, Palinor!"_

_"500 Septims?!" Arlia gasped. The Argonian chuckled._

_"So you didn't let your family know about your little gambling habit, eh?" Palinor glared at the Argonian. "It seems as if your husband has a bad habit of spending money that isn't his!"_

_"Palinor!" Casnia exclaimed, "Why?"_

_"I was doing it for you!" He yelled, "I was-."_

_"Quiet, you fools!" The Argonian Interrupted, "Money! Now!"_

_"I don't have it," Palinor said nervously, "Just give me a little more time."_

_"No! No more extensions! I was given an order: either return with the money or your head!" Arlia rushed forward and stood between her father and the Argonian._

_"You won't lay a hand on my father!" She shouted. The Argonian snarled and cocked his fist back._

_"Stay out of this, girl!" He lunged forward, punching Arlia in the jaw. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground unconscious. His facial features distorted into a look of intense rage, Palinor lunged at the Argonian._

_"I'll kill you!" Palinor growled as the Argonian swiftly unsheathed his sword. He jabbed the blade forward, forcing it through Palinor's chest. He gasped as he felt the cold steel pass through his body. The Argonian sneered and twisted the blade within his foe, causing Palinor to grunt in pain. Palinor dropped to his knees as the Argonian continued to twist the blade. Casnia screamed in horror as she watched her husband being brutally mutilated. Arlia regained her consciousness and slowly rose to her feet. Her vision started to focus again and what she saw drove her into a blind rage. Her father on his knees with a sword through his chest, the Argonian mercilessly torturing him. Arlia screamed and rushed towards him. He gasped and struggled to pull his sword from Palinor, but it was no use. Arlia jumped on him and they toppled to the ground. Arlia's hands fumbled around, trying to find something she could use as a weapon. Her left hand found the hilt of the Argonian's dagger upon his belt and she pulled it from its sheath. The Argonian froze in fear as he watched Arlia raise the dagger above her head. She growled in anger as she brought the dagger down, directly into his eye. He screamed in pain as the dagger completely ruptured his eye, blood gushing from the wound. Arlia withdrew the blade and brought it down again, this time directly into his throat. His screams turned to gurgles and blood began flooding his windpipe. Arlia screamed as she plunged the dagger in up to the hilt. One last breath escaped his lungs and life faded away from him. Arlia sat upon his chest, her shoulders rising and falling heavily with each breath._

_"Arlia," Casnia said worriedly. Arlia turned slowly to see her mother cowering in the corner, tears streaming down her face. Arlia slowly rose to her feet and stumbled over to her mother. She collapsed to the ground, falling into her mother's arms. Arlia sobbed and cried uncontrollably. Casnia wrapped her arms around her daughter and gently rocked her body back and forth._

_**DARKNESS**___

Arlia was startled back into consciousness by an all too familiar voice. "So the deed is done." Arlia sprang up from her bed, only to be met by the face of Lucien Lachance.

"But how do you know?" Arlia asked, "How do you knew that Rufio is dead already? That was just last night."

"You will find that The Dark Brotherhood knows a great many things," he said with a smile, "For you are now a part of our family."

"What would you have me do now?"

"Now you embrace your fate. For the slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant. The manner of execution, your signature. Rufio's blood, the ink." He paused, as if gauging Arlia's reaction. She seemed to be deeply intrigued. "As a speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a particular group of family members. You will join that group and fulfill any contracts given. You must now go to the abandoned house, in the southeast of town. Inside you will find a large, black door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly: Sanguine, my brother. And you will gain entrance. Once inside, speak to Ocheeva."

"Abandoned house, big, black door, Ocheeva," Arlia said, "got it." Lucien nodded.

"We must now take our leave of each other," he said, "For there is work to be done. I'll be following your progress with great interest. Welcome to the Family." Suddenly, he vanished completely as if he ceased to exist. However, Arlia knew it was just a clever spell, as he'd done it the last time they had met. She knew they would meet again. It was only a matter of time. After all, she had seen to it that their fates were intertwined. She smirked as she reached for her quiver. She quickly flung it over her shoulder and fastened it down securely. She opened the door and made her way down the stairs.

The bar patrons had already risen and began drinking again. _"The fools."_ Arlia thought, _"Can't they act with a bit of dignity? Hardly midday and they're already drowning themselves in ale."_ Dervera waved at Arlia as she reached the door.

"Bye, Arlia," she shouted over the ruckus, "See you tonight!" Arlia simply nodded as she opened the door. She stepped out into the bright daylight.

"Not likely," she said with a smile. She made her way down the street, towards the pond at the center of town. The water reflecting the bright sunlight was truly a beautiful sight. Arlia crossed the bridge and saw Aldos Athran, Dark Elf and resident drunkard, asleep on the banks of the pond. She scoffed and continued over the other small bridge. Before her was the massive Chapel of Arkay, a large and beautiful building, with ornate designs adorning it. Arlia looked just past it to see a small house, windows and doors all boarded up. She walked briskly past the chapel and up to the front door of the house. She quickly glanced around to see if any guards were nearby and this entire part of town seemed to be deserted. Arlia braced herself and prepared to kick the door down until she noticed it wasn't necessary. The boards nailed to the door weren't truly holding it in place. All that was necessary was to pick the lock. Arlia shot a glance over her should and reached into her pack. She pulled out a lock pick and inserted it into the lock. She slowly worked the lockpick around, hearing the tumblers rise and fall within. She kept working it until, one after another, the tumblers clicked into place. Arlia turned the door handle and opened the door. She quickly shuffled under the boards and into the dark house. She shut the door behind her and turned to see a room littered with broken furniture and cobwebs. She saw stairs leading upwards on the left and a door dead ahead. She figured that was the door to the basement. She strode across the room and opened the door. It opened with a loud creak and revealed a set of stairs. Arlia followed the stairs downward into the basement, which was filled with broken barrels and crates. She looked straight across the room to see a large, gaping hole in the wall. The bricks had been torn out to reveal an underground passage or cave of some sort. She proceeded down the dark passage, which was lot by a strange, eerie red glow. The path led downward and that's when Arlia saw it. The Black Door. She cautiously approached it and examined it more closely. About 8 feet tall, the door had several carvings upon it. At the top was large skull with a hand on the forehead, which is where the faint, red glow was emanating from. Below that, was the image of a woman, tall with dark hair, and five small children.

Arlia was startled by a dark, hissing voice, "What is the color of night?" Arlia froze, and then remembered what Lucien had told her.

"Sanguine, my brother," she said. With that, the door swung open to reveal a much more refined space. Brick walls with torches hanging in sconces and large tapestries bearing the mark of the Black Hand. Arlia stepped forward and the door slammed behind her. At the end of this small corridor she saw what appeared to be a foyer and there was an Argonian woman there, as if waiting for her. She was clad in black leather armor with a single pauldron over the right shoulder, which bore the Black Hand. She had green and red skin and orange eyes. She had several jeweled spikes jutting out of the side of her head and a smile spread across her face as Arlia approached her.

"Greetings, sister!" She exclaimed happily, "I am Ocheeva, mistress of this sanctuary. Lucien told me all about you. Welcome to the Dark Brotherhood!"

"Thank you," Arlia said graciously.

"It is always a pleasure to welcome another dark sister into our ranks. Truly, the Night Mother smiles upon her trusted daughters. You stand now in our sanctuary. May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort and security whenever the need arises." Arlia scanned the room, seeing a large bookcase as well as table and some chairs. A male Argonian sat at the table reading a book, a black hood over his head. "When you're ready for work, seek out Vicente Valtieri. He handles all assignments for new members."

"Very well," Arlia said, "thank you, Ocheeva."

"Before you go, please accept this gift from your new family," she said, as she turned around and opened a chest on the ground behind her. She rummaged in the chest and turned to face Arlia with set of armor, identical to her own, in her hands. "A unique set of armor, lighter than normal leather and black as the Void." Arlia took the armor from her and it felt weightless in her hands. She looked it over and saw that it was covered with straps and small sheathes, perfect for all the tools of an assassin. Ocheeva smiled at her, content with the fact that she seemed to like the armor. "Feel free to introduce yourself to your new Brothers and Sisters. Go now, my child, and may Sithis go with you." Arlia nodded and turned to face the foyer. Ocheeva walked past her and headed towards the door straight in front of them. Arlia watched as she crossed the room and opened the large doors, revealing what seemed to be a private study. Arlia turned her head to the right to see the male Argonian putting his book back on the bookcase. He turned to see her and smiled, his green and red skin bearing similar markings to Ocheeva's. He wore the same armor as Ocheeva, except that his had a hood attached. He stepped towards Arlia and held out his hand. Arlia reached out and gave his hand a firm shake.

"I welcome you to our family and this sanctuary," he said as he released her hand, "My name is Teinaava."

"I am Arlia."

"May you find yourself at home here, in the loving embrace of our Lady, the Night Mother." Arlia simply nodded, still not fully understanding the concepts of their beliefs. She chucked nervously.

"Is there a private place where I can put this on?" She asked, holding out the armor.

"Oh, yes, the sleeping quarters are right through this door here," he said, gesturing towards the door behind him, "You can go on in. I'll make sure nobody follows you." Arlia nodded and pushed open the large wooden doors. She shut them behind her and followed the corridor to a large room filled with beds and chests. There was an alcove to her left that had a large table, several cupboards, a fire pit, as well as what looked to be barrels of ale. Arlia walked towards one of the beds and set the armor down on it. She began to unfasten all of the buckles that kept her armor strapped down and let it all fall to the floor. She felt so exposed without her armor, but it felt good nonetheless. To feel the air against her skin was an almost alien feeling to her now.

She reached down and picked the leather greaves. So light, yet it seemed to provide much better protection than her old set. This was the work of a great smith. She slipped them on and they fit perfect over her legs. They conformed to her shape, but they did not restrict her movement. She put on her belt, which carried several daggers as well as steel long sword. She flung the cuirass over her head and tightened the straps on it, strapping her quiver to her back immediately after. She noticed that her cuirass also had a hood attached, much like Teinaava's. The gauntlets were fingerless, which would make it much easier to shoot her bow. _"Strange,"_ she thought, _"Ocheeva and Teinaava seemed to have full gloves. Perhaps it's a special alter for archers."_ Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she pulled the boots close to her. She slipped them on. A perfect fit.

_"These guys really go all out with their equipment,"_ she thought. She stood up and opened the chest at the end of the bed. Luckily, it was vacant; meaning nobody else had claimed this bed. After placing her old set of armor in it, she headed back down the corridor towards the foyer.

She pulled the heavy doors open to see Teinaava standing guard in front of the door.

"Thanks," she said as she passed him.

"Glad to be of assistance, sister," he said as he sat back down. Arlia saw another door straight agreed of her as well one to the right, Ocheeva's study.

Arlia looked to Teinaava and said, "What's behind that door straight ahead?"

"That would be the training room," he answered, "There's dummies and targets set up in there if you ever feel like honing your skills." Arlia nodded and turned right, towards Ocheeva's study. A pale, Breton woman emerged from behind one of the pillars and her pretty face lit up with happiness. She also wore the Dark Brotherhood armor and had a silver shortsword in a sheath on her hip.

"Oh, you must be Arlia!" She exclaimed, sweeping her blonde hair from her face, "I am Antionetta Marie. So glad to finally meet you. I've heard so much!"

"Have you?"

"Yes! Lucien has told us all about you!"

"You seem much too happy and lively for an assassin," Arlia said with a frown.

"Well, it doesn't all need to be so dark and gloomy."

"I suppose not."

"If you should ever need help with anything, don't hesitate to call on me, sister. I'm happy to help in any way I can."

"I'm sure you are," said Arlia as she turned and continued on her way. She rounded the corner past Ocheeva's study and saw a huge, muscular Orc talking to a Wood Elf.

"But why, sister?" He inquired, "What is the point? Why should one bother with all that sneaking and skulking?"

"My dear Gogron," she said endearingly, "you are a life- taker for the Dark Brotherhood. Our very existence relies on shadow and deception. Do you not value our secrets?"

"Yes, yes of course value our secrets and I would never betray them. But using stealth to kill? It's just so..." He paused, searching for right word, "Weak! They may offer bonuses, but old and magical trinkets are no substitute for the freedom to slaughter anyone at any time!"

"Oh, Gogron!" She exclaimed with a giggle, "your methods may be cruel, but your heart is always in the right place." Arlia cleared her throat loudly, making her presence known to them. They jumped and turned to face her. They both smiled at and approached her.

"Welcome sister," The Orc said happily, "I'd hug you but Ocheeva told me not to."

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance," said the Wood Elf, "I am Telaendril and this big oaf is Gogron gro-Bolmog" Arlia looked them over quickly. Gogron was easily one of the biggest Orcs she had ever seen. He towered over Arlia and was clad in steel plate armor. He had dark green skin, typical of an Orc, black eyes, and dark black hair pulled back in a braid. He had a large steel warhammer slung over his shoulder, which looked to be the size of a child.

Telaendril stood about the same height as Arlia and had pale white skin and blue eyes. Her armor was identical to that of Arlia's and she wore a quiver and a simple steel bow on her back. She had a hood over her head, but Arlia saw long locks of blonde hair creeping out of the hood.

"A fellow archer?" Arlia said with a smirk, "Glad to know I'll have someone to practice with."

"Oh, of course, sister!" Telaendril said happily, "Let me know anytime you would like to practice."

"Soon," Arlia said, as she looked to Gogron, "You seem to be out of place here."

He laughed heartily. "Yeah I don't exactly fit in with the rest of you. Tenaendril and I were just discussing that."

"It's a nice change of pace," Arlia said with a chuckle, "Maybe I'll get I see you in action someday."

"I look forward to it, sister." Arlia nodded and continued down the corridor. She stepped down the few stair steps and turned the corner to see a Khajiit coming up the stairs there. A male Khajiit with a long mane, held back with a brown headband. He had light brown fur and wore a simple green robe, which led Arlia to assume that he was a mage.

"If it isn't the newest member of the family!" He said mockingly, "Let's set one thing straight: the tenets prevent me from killing you, but that doesn't mean I have to like you."

Arlia chuckled. "Now this is the kind of attitude I expect from an assassin. If you ask me, everyone else here is far too happy and friendly. So what's your story?"

"I'm M'Raaj-Daar, resident mage and I provide the family members with supplies, for a small price. I'll sell you equipment, but that's only because Ocheeva is making me."

"Good to know," said Arlia. She bumped his shoulder as she walked down the stairs, causing M'Raaj-Daar to let out a quiet growl. Arlia smirked as she neared the end of the corridor, to find another large door.

She knocked lightly on the door and heard a man's voice, "Come in." Arlia pushed the doors open and saw what appeared to be another study. There was a bookshelf as well as a desk and chair in the center. A small table and several chairs on the left side of the room. In place of a bed, there was a large stone slab on the right side of the room. A Breton man rose from his seat at the desk and turned to face Arlia. She jumped back in surprise as she saw his face. His long, black hair was tied back in ponytail, revealing his facial features in full.

The first thing Arlia noticed was his blood red eyes. There was a hunger to them that made her feel extremely uneasy. The whole of his extremely pale face looked gaunt and nearly skeletal. He wore simple garb; a black shirt, black pants and leather boots. A simple golden amulet adorned his neck. He shot Arlia a smile, revealing large fangs.

"Warmest greetings to you," he said, with such a smooth, deep voice, "I trust you've already spoken to Ocheeva? I am Vicente Valtieri."

Arlia studied the man carefully. "I am Arlia," she said sternly, her voice sounding very on edge.

He smirked, sensing Arlia's nervousness. "Please, do not let my appearance unnerve you," he said, "The needs and tenets of the Family come before my own needs as a vampire."

"I would certainly hope so," said Arlia as she shuffled further into the room.

"Now, if you're ready to get to work, I can provide you with your first contract."

"Certainly," she said. This merited a smile from Vicente.

_"Just as I expected_," he thought, _"she's eager to kill." _He sat down at the table and gestured for Arlia to sit across from him. Feeling more comfortable, Arlia took a seat. "I'm not sure how you feel about pirates," he said, "But you've got to kill one. A captain. On his ship. Surrounded by his crew." Arlia arched an eyebrow, and shot Vicente a quizzical look. He smiled in response and carried on, "Go to the Waterfront district of the Imperial City. There you will find a ship named the Marie Elena. Board the ship and find its captain, Gaston Tissaud. Normally, I would name the parameters for earning a bonus reward, but this your first contract. Eliminate him in any way you see fit."

"Is his crew free game as well?"

"Normally, it is not advised that you make your presence known to anyone while on a contract. However, should they discover you; I would advise that you deal with any and all witnesses."

"Understood. I can avoid being seen with relative ease."

"So I've heard. Lucien has told us all a great many things. He seems to be impressed by your abilities."

"And you?"

"Well, I'm not quite sure yet," he chuckled, "I've heard good things, but I've yet to see them for myself."

"Fair enough. I will return to you once I've dealt with him." Vicente smiled, a smile filled with anticipation.

"I eagerly away your return. I will be watching your career with much interest." Arlia bowed her head as she stood. Vicente picked a book up off of the table and cracked it open. Arlia turned and left the room, her mind set on one thing: Killing Gaston Tissaud.

_**DARKNESS**_

Arlia passed through the large, metal gates from the Temple District into the Waterfront District. Coming into this district, you wouldn't even think it was the same city. The rest of the Imperial City was filled with large, extravagant buildings, whereas the Waterfront was just about the lowest of the low. Poor and busted shacks littered the shore, the homes of the district's residents. Before her was a large watchtower, a garrison for the Legion in this district. On either side of the tower was a stone bridge, leading to and from the district. The sun was setting over the Niben bay and the bright yellows and oranges reflected off of the water. It truly was a beautiful sight to see. Two ships were docked in the port. One of which was The Bloated Float, an inn and tavern. Arlia had made many fond memories in that tavern in years living here. She could hardly believe that this here she had lived for most of her life. While she had lived there, life had seemed to be good. Now, on the outside looking in, she saw just how pitiful of an existence it was. Beggars and thieves infested the district, with the occasional Legionnaire patrolling the area. Several large warehouse lay near the harbor, constantly kept under lock and key. Since leaving the sanctuary, Arlia had put on a long, black cloak over her armor, not wanting to showcase that she was a member of the Brotherhood. After all, the armor itself was a dead giveaway. She pulled her hood up over her head, a lock of her black hair sweeping over her face.

Arlia turned her attention to the other ship in the harbor, her destination. The Marie Elena, where Tissaud unknowingly lay in wait for his doom. Arlia crossed the bridge and rounded the watchtower. She stepped down the stairs and made her way across the second bridge.

"Arlia!" She heard a woman's voice call out to her. She turned to see her old friend, Methredhel, running towards her. Methredhel was a pretty Wood Elf girl around Arlia's age. Fair skinned and long auburn hair, with beautiful hazel eyes. She was clad in leather armor and wore a quiver filled with arrows and a simple iron bow on her back. "It's been ages since I've seen you! Where have you been?"

"I've been traveling," said Arlia swiftly, her eyes not meeting Methredhel's own. "I live in Cheydinhal now."

"That sounds great! How's life outside of the city?"

"It's great. The best thing I ever did was leave this wretched place."

"I hope to say the same someday. I have a feeling I'll be on my way out soon as well."

"What makes you say that?" Methredhel glanced over her shoulder and leaned in closer to Arlia.

"I managed to get in," she whispered.

"Get in?"

"Yes. I passed my test just a few nights past," she said excitedly, "I'm finally a member of the Thieves' Guild." The memories came rushing back to Arlia now. She distinctly remembered Methredhel always ranting and raving about how she would become a master thief someday.

"Well, congratulations," she said, "Put those skills to good use and get out of this damned city."

"Oh, I definitely plan on it!"

"Good, good. Now you just excuse me, old friend. I'm here on business and I'm in a bit of a rush."

"Of course. If you should find yourself back in the city again come and find me. We can spend some time chatting and catching up."

"I surely will. Farewell, Methredhel." Methredhel smiled and wrapped her arms around Arlia in a friendly hug.

"Until next time, my friend." She released her and continued on her way, heading towards the Temple District.

Arlia smiled as she reminisced for a moment. She had known Methredhel since they were children. Her father, Palinor, had trained them both in the art of archery at a young age. They were both extremely gifted marksmen. It was good to see her old friend alive and well.

Arlia snapped back to reality and walked down the pier towards the Marie Elena. As she got closer, she surveyed the scene. Several men stood on the main deck of the ship, drinking out of tankards and lightly conversing with one another. A tall Dunmer woman stood at the stern of the ship, barking orders at the men.

_"That must be the first mate,"_ Arlia thought. The dark elf strutted about the deck with a sense of supremacy about her. Arlia scoffed at her. _"She's nothing but a whelp, just like the rest of them."_ Arlia walked past the ships and stopped behind some barrels and crates. The sun was sinking on the horizon and darkness was falling over the harbor_. "There's no way I can walk straight onto the deck,"_ she thought, _"there's no way they would allow that."_ She scanned her surroundings and spotted an empty crate to her left. _"Perhaps this is their cargo,"_ she thought_, "And perhaps I could smuggle myself abroad." _Arlia glanced over at the men on deck.

"Get off your lazy asses and start loading the cargo onto the ship!" The Dark Elf barked, "We set sail in the morning and Captain Tissaud wants all of the cargo loaded onto the ship before then!" Now was her only chance. Arlia quickly hopped into the open crate and pulled the missing panel over the top, concealing herself within. She heard footsteps approaching and heard light conversation.

"Help me with this," she heard a man say. She heard grunts of labor as she felt herself being lifted off the ground. She held herself in place in the crate, taking care not to shift her weight. The crate rocked back and forth as the two men carried it aboard the ship. She sat in silence for a few minutes until her crate hit the ground with a thud.

_**DARKNESS**_

It had been several minutes since she's heard any footsteps or voices nearby. Arlia took that as a sign that they were finished loading the cargo. She pushed upwards and forced the top off of the crate. She gently set the panel on the floor and eased herself out of the crate. Arlia had never actually been on a ship. The holds were filled with barrels and crates. Spare rope and supplies were scarred all about the floor and shelves. Arlia quietly made her way through the holds, her footsteps hardly making a sound. Arlia could make out the sounds of light conversation behind behind a wall. Arlia peeks into the small alcove and sees two men, strutting about the cabin mumbling to each other. Just to the left of them was a ladder leading to the upper deck. That was where she needed to go.

Arlia paused for a moment, contemplating her options. She had no other choice. If they didn't hear her climbing the ladder, they would surely hear her opening the hatch at the top. They had to be eliminated. Arlia pulled her bow from her back and an arrow from her quiver. She took a deep breath and peeked out around the corner again. They were both facing the other way. This was her chance. She pulled the arrow back, feeling the tension build up on her bowstring as she cocked the arrow. She steadied her and let the arrow loose, the bowstring propelling it forward. The arrow flew straight and true, finding its mark. It smacked into the back of the man's head, spraying blood onto the wall as well as his comrade. The other man gasped in shock as he watched him fall to the ground. He turned his head towards where the arrow had seemingly come from. Too late. In an instant, Arlia had unsheathed her ebony dagger and took one long bound towards him, jabbing the dagger into his throat.

He tried to scream, but it was no use. Arlia had learned all too well what a dagger to the throat could do. By puncturing the windpipe, she assured the victim was unable to call for help. Blood gushed from his throat and his face twisted into an expression of fear and pain. Arlia growled and pulled the dagger swiftly from his throat. He stayed standing, his hands clutching the open wound. He reached out for Arlia but she swiftly dodged to the left. He stumbled forward, exposing his back to her. She raised the dagger above her head and brought it down into the nape of his neck. His gurgling was the equivalent of a grunt of pain. Arlia raised her leg and kicked him to the ground, withdrawing her blade as she did so.

Blood began to pool on the floor as the man struggled to cling to life. Arlia stepped closer to him, an angry frown on her face. "Why don't you just give in?" She snarled quietly. She raised her leg high and brought it down with all her might. Her foot smashed into his skull, warranting a sickening crunch from it. The labored breathing stopped. Arlia lifted her foot to see a large indentation on the side of his head. She smirked and spat on him as she sheathed her dagger and bow. She turned and pulled the arrow from the other man's head, placing it back in her quiver. Swiftly climbing the ladder, she opened the hatch at the top and cautiously peeked out. She found herself in what appeared to be the crew quarters. Beds and dressers filled the room and there was a door leading to small hallway. She climbed up through the hatch and gently closed it behind her. She proceeded into the hallway and saw a small group of three men at the end, all slumped over in their chairs. Too much to drink. Arlia stepped quietly over the wooden planks and proceeded towards them. She saw a door to her left and gently eased it open.

She poked her head in to see another room full of beds. She continued down the hall, taking care to quickly check each room as she progressed. Each was the same, simple quarters for the crew. Arlia was beginning to grow impatient. She reached the end of the hallway, and stood just in front of the drunken crew members. She saw a door just to the right of them and assumed that would be the captain's quarters. She slunk quietly past them and opened the door. She quickly ducked into the room and shut the door behind her.

"Who in Oblivion are you?" She heard a man's voice ask. Arlia turned to see the very man she had come to kill. Gaston Tissaud. A tall Imperial man with brown hair speckled with spots of gray. Arlia froze dead in her tracks as Tissaud looked her up and down. "You ain't one of me crew."

Arlia sprain into action, swiftly drawing her dagger. She brought it upwards with great force, jamming into Tissuad's jaw. The dagger pinned his jaws together, forcing his mouth shut. He grunted in pain as blood began pouring from the wound. Arlia let the dagger loose, and Tissaud reels backwards. His hands struggled to pull the dagger from his jaw, grunting in pain all the while. Arlia drew her steel long sword and Tissaud froze. His eyes met hers, his full of fear and hers full of anger. She swung the sword swiftly, landing a blow on his neck. The blade cleaved his his head off, dagger still rammed into his jaw. The gaping hole in his neck immediately started spraying blood all about the cabin, bathing Arlia in a crimson shower. She inhaled deeply and smiled maliciously. Just then, she heard a fierce pounding at the door.

"Captain! Are you alright, sir?! We heard a clamor." The panicked voice on the other side paused, awaiting a response. After a few moments of silence, the three men who had new sitting outside burst into the room.

Lightning fast, Arlia swung her sword wildly yet very precisely. Three grunts and the men all fell to the ground, throats slit and spraying blood. Arlia let out a sigh of relief.

_"Almost got me off guard,"_ she thought. She sheathed her sword and turned to Tissaud's decapitated body as knelt down beside it. As a captain of a pirate vessel, he was sure to have some decent loot on his person. Arlia rummaged through his pockets, finding some gold coins and a strange key. She examined the key carefully and looked around the room, wondering what it unlocked. A small chest in the corner of the room caught her eye and she shuffled over to it. She put the key into the keyhole and turned it, hearing the tumblers all slide up and click into place. She lifted the lid and saw a small coin-purse as well a beautiful sapphire and emerald. She quickly collected the trinkets and put them in her pack. She turned to Gaston's disembodied head and pulled her dagger from the jaw. She placed it back in the sheath and like for a way out.

The corpse-filled room she stood in now contained a bed, a desk, and the small chest. Up several stair steps, was a large dining table. Beyond the table was a door, which seemed to lead out to a small balcony. Arlia swiftly made her way to the door and pushed it open. The cold water of the Niben below her, she took a deep breath as she dove off of the ship. She hit the water with a splash and began swimming towards the nearby shore. She crawled onto the sand and rose to her feet.

"It's done," she sighed. She looked up to the night sky as she inconspicuously made her way back onto the pier. The crew of the Marie Elena was still bustling about the deck, the first mate still barking orders. They were completely oblivious to what had just transpired. Arlia smiled as she walked away from the ship and disappeared into the cover of night.


	3. Chapter 3

_Shakes my good pal, I have to say we're doing quite a good job at this._

**And by that you mean?**

_Updating this, I'm terrible at actually updating things!_

**That doesn't make sense, I do all the writing. All you do is bitch at me if the chapter is done then edit it!**

_Life is good Shakes. Life is good._

**Whatever, let me do a disclaimer**_: _**We do not own any of the plot or characters from Oblivion/Skyrim, we do however own any and all OCs you'll see in this story.**

_Do enjoy the chapter folks!_

Descent into Darkness:

Chapter 3: History Lessons

Arlia walked into the sanctuary, head held high. She'd successfully carried out her first contract for The Dark Brotherhood. Telaendril met her right outside of Ocheeva's study and her eyes lit up. "Sister!" She exclaimed, "Returning from your first contract? How did it go?"

"It went very well," said Arlia, a sense of pride filled the air around her.

"Well let me be the first to congratulate you on a job well done."

"Umm well thank you, sister," Arlia stumbled over the words. She was not yet accustomed to the whole "family" idea yet. It would take some time to adjust. She continued down the corridor toward Vicente's study. She pushed the large wooden doors open to find Vicente sitting in a chair at the table, reading a book. Upon hearing the doors open, he looked away from his book and looked up to see Arlia in the doorway.

A smile lit up his face as he said, "So you've returned? I take it that Gaston Tissaud is dead then."

"Indeed he is," she said haughtily. Vicente shut the book and set it down on the table. Arlia stepped towards him as he reached for something on his belt. He pulled up a coinpurse and held it out before her.

"Your reward for the contract," he said, "Two hundred and fifty gold pieces." Arlia smiled as took the coin-purse Vicente, the gold coins jingling within it. "You must be weary, dear sister. 'Tis a long journey to the Imperial City. Take some time to rest and recover. Then, we will discuss more work for you." Arlia nodded.

"Thank you, brother," she said as she left the study. She walked back up the corridor, heading for the sleeping quarters. She felt as if she had earned some time to relax.

**DARKNESS**

It had been two days since Arlia had completed the contract and the news had spread rapidly through the sanctuary. Disposing of a pirate captain was no simple task, and her new family members were praising her for her success.

Arlia had started to acclimate to her new life and her new family. Telaendril had taken a liking to her and the two often practiced archery together. They pushed open the doors and walked into the training room together to see the usual scene. Gogron stood before one of the wooden dummies, smashing it to pieces with his warhammer. He truly was a fearsome Orc. He swung the hammer with such ease that it seemed weightless in his hands.

Wooden dummies filled the left side of the room, along with several weapon racks filled with various armaments. On the left side of the room were several archery targets, which Arlia and Telaendril had used many times these past few days. They lined up next to each other and drew their bows. Telaendril was, more or less, on equal ground with Arlia in terms of archery.

They both fired several arrows at their respective targets, each one hitting very close to the center. The two women stopped as they heard clapping behind them, they turned to see Vicente, a large smile on his face.

"That's some fine shooting, dear sisters," he said, "Truly, you two are amongst the finest archers in Cyrodiil."

"Thank you, brother," said Telaendril.

"The Brotherhood is truly lucky to have you and your abilities," he said. They all paused awkwardly for a moment, the silence cut short by the sound of splintering wood. Gogron destroying another dummy. "Arlia," said Vicente, "Would you care to join me in my study? I feel there are some things we need to discuss."

"Certainly," she said. Vicente turned and exited the room, Arlia following close behind. The turned towards Ocheeva's study and turned down the corridor. The stepped down the stairs and entered his study, taking seats at the table.

"Dear sister," he said, "Do you know the origins of our Family?"

"No. In fact, I know very little about the Brotherhood as a whole."

"Yet you accepted an invitation to join us?" Arlia shrugged.

"Based on what Lucien told me, this was the place for me. I've been told I have a talent for taking lives, and The Brotherhood seemed to appreciate that talent."

"And we do. You are a natural killer, but there is much more to our organization than simply taking lives. Our history runs far deeper than what some realize."

"And that's why you called me here?"

"Yes. You see, we like our assassins to be well-informed of our Family's ordeals. Past, present, and future. As a Family, we have certain rules and guidelines in place, so as to maintain order within ourselves."

"Such as?" Vicente had piqued Arlia's interest.

"The Five Tenets. I'm actually quite surprised that Lucien did not recite them to you upon recruitment. They are as follows. Tenet one: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke The Wrath of Sithis. Tenet two: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke The Wrath of Sithis. Tenet three: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke The Wrath of Sithis. Tenet four: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis. And Tenet five: Never kill a Dark Brother or Sister. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis." Arlia let all of that information sink in for a moment. The rules seemed simple enough. There was just one thing she didn't understand.

"Who exactly is Sithis?" She asked, "I understand that he is something of a deity to The Brotherhood, but what is he? A daedra?"

"He is no daedra. Describing Sithis is like describing for you the vastness of a starless sky, the cold of winter, or the darkness of shadow. Sithis is all of those things. But at the same time, He is nothing at all. He is you and he is me. He is simply The Void." There was a moment of silence as Arlia processed these words.

"And what is His part in the grand scheme of things? Why do we kill for Him?"

"He is appeased by death. It was his Union with the Night Mother, our Unholy Matron, which brought about the birth of our Family. Many years ago, Sithis visited a Dunmer woman, who bore Him five children. Not long after their births, the woman began to hear a voice within her head. The voice of Sithis, calling for her to send Hid children into The Void. She sacrificed her children, reuniting them with their father. When the others in her town discovered what had transpired, they razed her home to the ground. It was this action that created the Night Mother. Some years later, a man heard a voice in his head, much like when the Night Mother had heard Sithis. He followed the voice to her tomb and it was there that the first Listener was created. From that, The Dark Brotherhood was born, each and every one of us products of their union. All children of the Night Mother and Dread Father, Sithis."

"Listener?" She asked.

"Yes. You've already encountered Lucien, who acts as Speaker. There are three other Speakers besides him. There is but one Listener. These Family Members are the Black Hand, an inner circle comprised of the best assassins in the Brotherhood. Each Speaker represents a finger and the Listener represents the thumb. As with the original Listener, all of them speak directly to the Night Mother. She relays to them the will of Sithis, a contract. The Listener will then relay this information to a Speaker. The Speaker will contact the client, collect payment for the contract, and see to it that the contract is fulfilled by an assassin."

"And the Night Mother is the one people pray to when performing the Blac Sacrament?" She asked. This, she had heard of before. The Black Sacrament was a ritual performed by one wishing to contact the Dark Brotherhood. In order to perform the ritual, one must create an effigy of the intended target, which involved using actual body parts. Namely, the head, bones, heart, and flesh. The effigy must be encircled in candles, and a dagger is to be rubbed with Nightshade petals. The invoker must then proceed to stab the effigy with the dagger while pleading, 'Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.'

"Precisely," Vicente answered, "The client performs the Black Sacrament and the Night Mother hears their pleas."

"I never knew that there was so much involved in this business," said Arlia.

"Does it unnerve you?"

"Certainly not. If anything, I feel enlightened. I'm glad to have learned these things. It's given me a better understanding of what we do and why we do it."

"I'm glad to hear that, sister. I can see now why Lucien took a liking to you. He is a great assassin. One if the best I've ever seen. I remember when he became Speaker."

"When he became Speaker? Just how long have you served the Brotherhood?"

"It's been well over two hundred years now."

"Two hundred? Just how old are you?"

"Now that's a good question," he chuckled, "I seem to have lost track. If I were to guess, I would say around 430." Arlia stared at him in shock and disbelief. "Yes, I've seen much in my long years. I've seen men rise to power, only to have it all slip away. Seen men struggle for life, only to have it ripped away. Such is the fragility of life. Any moment may be your last."

"Vicente," she said, filled with curiosity, "Would you mind telling me of how you came to be a vampire?"

"Certainly, dear sister. I was stricken with vampirism nearly 400 years ago during an expedition into the ashlands of Vvardenfell..." Vicente's voice trailed away as he recounted the events of that night.

**Darkness**

_Vicente and his party drudged on through the ashlands. The five Bretons were growing weary and would soon need to find a place to camp for the night. Mael walked beside Vicente, his long brown hair tied back, sweat streaming down his face. "Are you alright, Mael?" He asked._

_"I'm fine," he replied, "Just wishing we'd stop for a rest. I'm exhausted."_

_"We all are," he said, "I'm sure Blaise will tell us to stop soon." Blaise was the party leader, a tall man with short blonde hair. They'd set out into the ashlands - a dry, inhospitable wasteland - with the intent of learning more about the natural flora and fauna of Morrowind. Their expedition hadn't learned more than they already knew. Vvardenfell had__  
__very few natural crops, highly-adapted to the harsh environment._

_"Alright, boys!" Blaise shouted, "let's find a place to set up camp for the night. Keep an eye out for those damned Nix-Hounds! Don't let them sneak up on us again!" The party sighed in relief as they walked into a small clearing, devoid of the stone obelisks that littered this land. The ash beneath their feet, they began unloading their tents and setting them up. In a short while, the group had their camp set up and had a fire going._

_"As if this damned place wasn't hot enough," said Tristyn, as he pulled off his leather cuirass, revealing his muscular physique._

_"Well, we need the fire if we plan on eating tonight," said Uthard, as he pulled some raw meat from his pack, "that is, unless you prefer raw cliff racer." Cliff racer meat was sour and bitter as it was, but it was what they've mainly been eating during the trip. Awful creatures they were, descending from the skies to swarm travelers. They resemble great lizards with wings and fearsome claws and teeth. They flew high above them in the sky, waiting and watching. The group had managed to take down many cliff racers in their travels and had learned to survive by eating their meat._

_Uthard began roasting the meat on a spit over the fire while the others in the party surrounded the fire. Vicente couldn't shake this feeling of uneasiness. As if they were being watched. He gazed out at the wasteland around them, the large stone obelisks going on for miles._

_"Something wrong, Vicente?" Asked Tristyn._

_"It's nothing," he said, "just daydreaming." After forcing down yet another meal, the party retired to their tents. Vicente took first watch, taking care to mind their surroundings. He still had that strange feeling, as if something were creeping up on them. This barren wasteland, the perfect place for something bad to happen. Suddenly, ash began to fall from the sky. Another deposit from the great volcano. Ash storms were common here, happening nearly every day. Vicente sat in silence as the storm continued, but was startled by movement behind him.__He unsheathed his sword and readied himself for whatever it may be._

_"You're a little jumpy tonight, eh?" Blaise's voice resonated in the darkness. Vicente relaxed and sheathed his sword as Blaise knelt down next to fire, stoking it back to life.__"What's got you so worked up?" He asked._

_"Nothing. Nothing at all."_

_"Don't lie to me. I can see right through you. You've been on edge since we stopped to make camp." Vicente sighed._

_"I just feel as if we're being watched," he said._

_"Well, of course we are. There's cliff racers and Nix-Hounds all over this place. Who's to say they aren't ready to swoop in and attack?"_

_"It's not that. It's something much more worrisome. Something much worse than them." Blaise rose to his feet and looked Vicente in the eyes._

_"What do you mean?" Suddenly, Blaise grunted in pain as the blade of a sword burst through his chest, spraying blood onto Vicente. Blaise coughed and spit up some blood as the blade was withdrawn. He fell to the ground, blood draining from his lifeless body._

_"What in Oblivion?!" Shouted Vicente, waking the other party members. They all rose from their bedrolls and drew their swords.__Tristyn rushed towards Vicente to see Blaise dead on the ground._

_"What happened?!" He shouted._

_"I've got no idea! I didn't even see who it was!" Mael and Uthard rushed to join their allies, only to have their path blocked._

_"Who the hell are you?" Asked Uthard. The man, a Dunmer, stared them down. Red eyes filled with an insatiable hunger. He wore a dark cloak and had his orange hair tied back. He had pale gray skin and his facial expression was locked in a stern frown. He lunged at the men, dagger in hand. Before they could react, their throats were slit and they fell to the ground. Tristyn yelled out in rage as he rushed towards the Dark Elf, broadsword in tow. An Imperial woman emerged from the shadows and tackled Tristyn, bringing him to the ground. For such a small woman, she had incredible strength. Enough to bring Tristyn down with ease.__She straddled him and brandished her dagger._

_Tristyn's eyes lit up with fear as the dagger gleamed in the light of the flames. She smiled, revealing large, vicious fangs. Her blood red eyes filled with anticipation. Her pale white skin, contrasting her black cloak. Fast as lightning, she brought the blade down into his chest, right where his heart lay. Tristyn grunted in pain and took his last breath as the woman dismounted, turning her attention to Vicente._

_Vicente trembled in fear as the duo slowly approached him. He regained his composure and lunged forward, only to have the woman dodge his attack. Vicente swung at the Dunmer, barely missing his mark. The Dunmer swung his dagger, only to have Vicente parry the blow. "Well," the Dunmer said," that's quite impressive." Vicente turned and made a swing for the Imperial, which she parried with her dagger. Vicente's arm was caught by the Dunmer, who quickly disarmed him, flinging his sword across the camp. They were so fast and strong that Vicente had a hard time keeping up. The Dunmer lunged at Vicente. Vicente quickly sidestepped and drew a dagger from his belt. He thrust wildly, his blow connecting. The dagger jammed into his back, the man fell face forward into the ash. Vicente looked down at his fallen foe, lying lifeless in the ground._

_"Alvos!" The woman shouted. She looked down at the corpse of her fallen companion. She snarled at Vicente, "You bastard!"_

_She was about to lunge, when suddenly, a man's loud, booming voice rang out from the darkness, "Cinda! Wait!" A tall, Nord man emerged from the shadows. He had short, blonde hair and wore a black headband as well as a dark cloak. He had pale white skin and blood red eyes, just as the other two did._

_"Alik," she said, which was likely the man's name, "Why stop?"_

_"This one's mine," he said with a smile, his large fangs striking fear into Vicente. Vicente turned and ran, hoping to escape death. He dodged the obelisks, ash falling from the sky. He kept running until he came to cave and he rushed inside. It was so dark within the cave that he could hardly see. He couldn't hear anything besides his own labored breaths and the pounding of his heart within his chest. Just then, he heard man's deep, evil laughter. Vicente felt a hand grasp his throat and squeeze, cutting off his breathing._

_Vicente kicked and struggled as he was lifted off the ground, but it was no use. His attacker was far too strong."P-please," he managed to croak out a single word. _

_The man chuckled.__"Please?" He said in a loud, booming voice. Alik chuckled and Vicente heard Cinda laugh. They had made it to the cave, but how? He had run faster than he ever had in his entire life. Vicente felt a sharp pain in his neck as his flesh was punctured. He flailed about furiously, trying to escape his attacker's grip. He felt what seemed like sucking on the open wound and soon his strength faded. He fell to the ground and began to fade into unconsciousness._

_"Why did you do that?" He heard Cinda ask.__  
__"There was something different about that one," Alik said, "He was bent on survival. Taking down one of our kind is no easy feat. As a reward, he will now join our ranks as a hunter of the night." Vicente drifted away into what felt like death._

**DARKNESS**

"I hunted in secrecy for nearly 200 years before the Dark Brotherhood found me. They accepted me for what I am and even value my... Unique talents." Vicente paused to draw breath. It had been many years since he had told that story. Arlia was filled with curiosity as well as desire. The people in his story had completely eradicated his party. The way he described their immense speed and strength made Arlia want to feel that power for herself.

"Vicente," she said, "Would you be willing to share this dark gift?" He shot Arlia a quizzical look. Not many are so eager to join the ranks of the undead.

"While it is true that I may bestow this gift unto any that I see fit," he said, "I do not believe you are ready for it." Arlia furrowed her brow.

"Not ready?" She asked, her voice filled with venom.

"Indeed. To become a hunter of the night is no small task. Some even consider it a burden. To effectively wield the power that it brings, one must have a level head and a cool mind. Something that I sense you lack." Arlia snarled and rose from her seat.

"You know nothing!" She shouted. Vicente raised an eyebrow and chuckled lightly at her outburst.

"But I do, dear sister. This very reaction simply serves to strengthen my theory. You let your anger control you." Arlia glared at Vicente, a fiery rage burning in her eyes. She growled and stormed out of the room, leaving Vicente alone. _"__Such a pity,"_ he thought to himself_, "That girl has such great potential. If only she wouldn't allow her emotions to control her. She could be unstoppable."_


End file.
